Chasing Shadows
by xXAngelFireXx
Summary: London, 1827. The arrival of a Shadowhunter at the London Institute sends those living there into an irritated frenzy while the disappearance of a Shadowhunter from the Paris Institute causes an uproar of a different sort. Strange things are occurring, and it's up to an unlikely team to figure things out. (Terrible summary, but I dont know what else to put. Too many genres!)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Paris, 1827

Sorelli hurried down the poorly lit streets of Paris clutching her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The grey cobblestoned streets were nearly empty; not many people were out at this time of night, and those who were were far from respectable ladies such as herself. Her pale blonde hair had come loose from its bun and now fanned out beneath her hat. The slight wind coming off of the River Seine pushed crinkled brown leaves into swirling piles at her feet and tugged on her hair. Moonlight bathed the street in an eerie glow as she continued on. She turned off of the main street onto a darker, narrower alley that began to slope upward. It was the fastest way back to the Institute, though not an ideal route at night. She only took it because she was in a hurry. It met up with the main road not far ahead. About halfway up the alley Sorelli glanced quickly over her shoulder, thinking she heard a noise, but there was no one. She pulled her shawl closer around her and quickened her pace slightly. The clicking of her shoes echoed off of the walls of the buildings that rose up on either side of her.

Upon reaching the top of the hill the alley widened slightly and branched off to the left and right. Sorelli rounded the corner and nearly bumped into a very tall man in black. "_Excusez-moi, Monsieur,_" she murmured, keeping her head down and hoping it was not someone she knew. What would they make of her wandering the streets at night? She made to move around him, but he extended his arm to block her path, causing her to come to an abrupt stop to avoid hitting him. She looked at his arm with astonishment, but quickly turned on her heel to go down the other street. She did not want to get into a spat with this man, but would not sit idle should he attempt to abduct her. She hadn't walked but three steps before nearly skidding to a halt with a muffled gasp. Coming toward her from all three streets were tall men who, now that she looked closer, appeared to be wearing long black cloaks._ Demons. _She thought initially, though the closer they got, the more obvious it became that they were neither demons nor men. Towering at nearly eight feet tall, they appeared to glide across the ground rather than walk. They were much to controlled and graceful to be demons. It was impossible for Sorelli to see their faces for they were covered by the hoods of their cloaks.

Sorelli found herself with her back pressed against the wall of a building, the cold from the stone seeping through the thin material of her shawl and dress and into her back. "_Que voulez-vous?_" she demanded, glaring between the three hooded beings. When she got no response, she tried in English: "What do you want?" she repeated, her pale blue-grey eyes flashing with determination. Again, no response.

The figures all stopped in a semicircle around Sorelli, trapping her. Sorelli slowly reached into the folds of her skirt for where she hid her knife. "Who are you?" she asked, looking at the one she'd nearly run into. She closed her hand around where the hilt of her dagger should have been, and, for a fleeting moment, was unable to keep the surprised look from her face. She was certain it had been there not five minutes ago.

"_Looking for this?_" a voice echoed in her head. The first one held up a thin dagger, easily recognizable as hers by the elaborate engraving of her family symbol on the blade. Sorelli looked at the blade in his long delicate fingers with confusion. He must have taken it when she turned from him, but how did he know that it was there? She never told anyone where her weapons were hidden. Sorelli could almost feel the satisfaction at her confusion rolling off of the hooded figure. "_Well, you shan't be needing it_," came the voice again as he slipped the dagger into what must have been a pocket, though she saw none.

"Keep your hands off me!" Sorelli warned, shifting with the ease of practice into a defensive crouch. All three figures seemed to laugh darkly, their voices reverberating through her. With that, they all moved toward her. Sorelli backed as far against the wall as she could, preparing to break through them and run. Then they reached out their hands. Each was slightly different, but they were all equally terrifying. On one, each finger was replaced with five gruesome snakes; each had a round mouth lined with rows and rows of teeth. The second had long, slim claws extending from his finger tips. The third, the one who had spoken to her, had hundreds of suction cups on each hand, not noticeable from a distance. With wicked laughter, he reached for her.

And then Sorelli screamed.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I'm AngelFire, but you can call me Ange, Angela, or some other variation of your creation. Anyway, this is technically my first official fanfic (I've had other ideas, but never done much with them), so let me know how I'm doing! This is a story that uses the idea of Shadowhunters (by Cassandra Clare) and then I created a whole new cast of characters. My theory is that you guys are either going to hate this or think it's kinda cool, so if you do hate it, please tell me so I can focus on another story!**

**So basically I have an unhealthy obsession with London. It's so bad that sometimes I slip and use British English spelling (favourite rather than favorite) and I talk to myself in a British accent (as if talking to myself isn't bad enough by itself. And now everyone reading from the UK probably thinks I'm insane.). **

**Anyway, I went to London last summer just before reading The Infernal Devices and while I was there, I created some characters, all Londoners of course. I also have an obsession for making characters. The majority of the main characters in this fanfic were created last summer. **

**And then I read The Infernal Devices. Oh God.**

**So basically, I finished Clockwork Princess and was all "I'm going to write a fanfic!" and for once I actually acted upon my words and here we are!**

**The characters are 100% mine and if you try to steal them I'll be sad. It is unfortunate that my James and Jem are quite similar but, whether or not you choose do believe me, I did create my James before I even opened Clockwork Angel.**

**A slight disclaimer, I do not take credit for the idea/culture of Shadowhunters or (most of) the setting! Those are the brilliant ideas of the lovely Cassandra Clare!**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

London, 1827

_Thud, thud, thud, thud._ Each knife hit its mark in the center of the target. Elizabeth straightened up, wiping away the single bead of sweat that dripped down her temple. Brushing a strand of gold hair out of her face, she walked briskly over to the target and retrieved her knives with an air of frustration. She returned to where she'd been throwing from and stepped a little farther back. She bent her knees and brought her arm back in preparation to throw. She was becoming quite proficient at throwing knives and daggers now. _Thud_. She quickly grabbed another. _Thud._ The third. _Thud._ The fourth. _Thud._

Unlike many ladies of her time, Elizabeth did not practice the piano or work on her sewing. It was much too dull for her. But that was the way of the ladies in her world -the world of Shadowhunters- and that was fine with her. Practice cleared her head, made her think, made her focus. Lately she practiced to distract herself from her vexation.

She had been coming to the training more frequently as of late, primarily because she was more frequently vexed. The reason for her near constant irritation? Wesley Montvale. She could not understand why he was even at the Institute. He hated it and made it quite clear to everyone that he did. He was the most disagreeable man she had ever met. Even just thinking about him upset her.

Elizabeth continued throwing knives in an attempt to get her anger under control. The first three had hit the center, but the final one flew off to the right. Elizabeth moved to retrieve them again, cursing under her breath.

"That's not very lady like, Lizzy," came a voice from the door.

Elizabeth whirled around, prepared to throw a knife at Wesley -for he enjoyed poking fun at her- but stopped when she recognized James. He was leaning casually against the doorframe looking quite dapper in his clean white shirt and black overcoat. The wind from their recent outing had caused his dark brown hair to fall across his forehead in an uncharacteristically messy manner. His mouth was pulled up at one corner into a an affectionate, teasing smile.

"James Sommenfield, do not creep up on me like that!" Elizabeth cried, throwing the knife to the ground with a loud clatter. She immediately felt guilty for snapping at him and bent to pick up her knife without another word.

"Is is not a Shadowhunter's responsibility," James inquired, straightening up and walking slowly into the room, "to be aware of their surroundings? I had been there for several minutes," he pointed out, still teasing.

Elizabeth set the knives aside and crossed her arms. "All the same, I nearly sent a knife at your head. You should have announced yourself."

James waved the comment away with a hand. "Who were you expecting to walk in on you?" he asked as he sat on the edge of a table. "We are in the Institute, after all."

Elizabeth's face must have showed her irritation because though she didn't respond, James started laughing. "Wesley? Dear Elizabeth, you must have set him straight by now."

"No," Elizabeth scowled. "I can hardly stand the sight of Mr. Montvale, and I am convinced he feels the same toward me." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself again. She did not think she had a much of a temper until she met Wesley. When she was six, her brothers had dipped her hair in ink, causing her to ruin her favorite dress. Even then she had not been as angry as she was nearly every day at Wesley.

James looked at her with an amused expression, his vibrant blue eyes even softer than they usually were. "I'm sure you will figure it out, Lizzy," he said and stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You always do."

Elizabeth looked down at the floor, her cheeks warming slightly. James was always far too kind to her, forgiving her for things most people would despise her for, his faith in her never faltering.

"You have too much faith in me," Elizabeth murmured, still looking at the ground as her blush faded.

James laughed quietly, gently placing a finger under her chin and tipping her head up so she was looking up at him. "Well someone has to," he smiled softly, "because you do not have enough faith in yourself."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him, unable to help a small smile. "I think I can manage."

"Oh I know you can," James nodded and stepped back. There was a loud crash and a rack of swords and daggers clattered to the ground. James swore and regained his balance before knocking into anything else.

Elizabeth was barely able to hold back a laugh as she put a hand over her chest, pretending to be offended. "James!" she scolded. "It is not proper to swear in the presence of a lady!"

"I apologize for my rudeness,"James said but then scoffed, "Though I am certain you have heard worse."

"You are correct," Elizabeth nodded. She couldn't help a slight grin as she said, "Demons have rather vulgar vocabulary when they have been stabbed with a seraph blade."

"That they do," James agreed. "Now help me pick this up before Felix comes to inquire," James said as he bent down and began to pick up swords.

"Yes, that would be unpleasant," she nodded and crouched down to the floor to help. Felix Sudland, the Head of the Institute, was generally a good man. He had been serving as the Head of the Institute for almost fifteen years now and had dedicated his life to it and its inhabitants. Felix did, however, have some very strict policies, and it was never good to be on his bad side. Wesley had made that list the first day he arrived, and Elizabeth seriously wondered why Felix put up with him. He had insisted that people leave the Institute before, and in this case, he would be doing everyone a favor.

* * *

Wesley sat in his room in the Institute, his chair pulled close to the fireplace. He looked down at the letter in his hands, worn from being folded and unfolded so many times. It was from his father, and he had not responded. He did not plan on doing so either. As much as he disliked it here at the Institute, anywhere was better than the enormous, echoing house that he used to call home. Wes folded the letter again and stood, tossing it onto the bed. He went over to the basin and pitcher on the night table, hung his head over the basin, and poured the now cold water over his head. He flinched slightly with the shock of the cold, but it helped clear his head. After washing his hair he rubbed it with a towel and then picked up the letter again.

Wes looked up, hearing some muffled thuds from above. Irritated, he rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. He knew it was Elizabeth up in the training room throwing knives again. She tended to do that especially, he had noticed, after the two of them had had a spat, which was often. He smirked, thinking of their most recent argument.

Wes had been with James and Elizabeth on a hunting outing and, though there had been fewer demon attacks lately, they had already run into a few.

"I had it perfectly under control!" Elizabeth had shouted as the demon dissolved in a shower of black dust and ichor. Wesley had simply gotten to the demon before she had, though Elizabeth did not see it as such.

Something about the way Elizabeth's eyes sparked with blue fire when she was angry made Wes shout back, "You got the last one!" as he shoved his sword back into it sheath. "It was my turn!"

Elizabeth had been about to respond, but was cut off by James, the third member of their party. "Enough!" he called, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the buildings lining they alley they were in. "You two are carrying on like children," he scolded them as he casually wiped ichor off his dagger. "The glamours may hide your body, but they cannot conceal your shouts. It's a wonder all of London has not come to investigate."

Wesley remembered rolling his eyes at the comment when Elizabeth snapped, "If Mr. Montvale had not rudely interrupted, therewould have been no shouting," and then stalked off toward the street.

James had sighed exasperatedly and shook his head as if truly disappointed. Wesley opened his mouth to protest to her comment, but was hushed by James. Elizabeth had not said a word on the way back to the Institute, indicating she was infuriated.

Now he heard the aftermath above; dagger throwing. Absently, Wes wondered if she was even any good. Brushing the thought away with a shake of his head, he returned his mind to the letter in his hands. He stared at it, not unfolding it or reading it. Just staring. He moved toward the fire, extending the hand with the letter in it toward the flames, but he stopped himself. Again. Wes could not count how many times he had tried to burn the letter, and each time he tried he could not make himself do it. Though he hated its contents, he still couldn't do it.

A loud crash from above interrupted his thoughts. "Bloody-" he muttered, shoving the letter back in the pocket of his trousers. Not bothering to grab his overcoat, Wes quickly jerked his door open and went to investigate. About halfway up the stairs to the training room he realized his hair was still wet and probably quite a mess. He combed his fingers through his thick waves in an attempt to make himself more presentable. He paused before entering the training room, a smirk already in place.

Wes pushed open the door to find Elizabeth, still in her dress rather than gear, and James on the floor picking up swords and daggers. Walking slowly into the room and crossing his arms, Wes said, "Well you two have gotten into quite a mess there."

* * *

**Please let me know what you think! I'm hoping to update every four days or so if anyone is reading!**


	3. Chapter 2

**So I finished with Chapter 2 and figured what the heck? Might as well give it to ya now 'cause It'll probably take another chapter or two for anyone reading to get into this anyway. Seriously though, I'd like to know how I'm doing, so please review if you've got a sec!**

**Thanks!**

**Ange**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Elizabeth looked up at the sound of Wesley's voice, her face devoid of emotion. "Mr. Montvale," she acknowledged him coldly. She felt James tense slightly beside her, though he hadn't looked up.

"Come now, Miss Elizabeth," Wesley scolded her mockingly. "I've been here nearly two weeks, surely you must call me Wesley now."

"I'd rather not, Mr. Montvale, though thank you for the invitation," Elizabeth mimicking his proper tone of voice as she stood up, though her voice dripped with sarcasm. She fixed him with a glare and then smoothed her pale pink dress. "Is there something we can assist you with?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is," Wes nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "Would you mind, perhaps, not making such a racket up here while you are training? I realize sometimes you miss the target, but really. Knocking over a rack of swords hardly seems necessary," he finished, keeping a completely straight face.

Elizabeth was not as successful in containing her anger. "Mr. Montvale, if you are suggesting that I cannot throw knives, I suggest you use yourself as a target. It should be perfectly safe for you after all," she spat. If she used Wes as her target, she knew she would not miss.

"Lizzy," James warned, standing up and putting away the rest of the swords. Elizabeth just brushed him off, still glaring at Wes.

"Do you always have to keep such a short leash on her, James?" Wes asked, turning to face him. Wes's hair was a few shades lighter than James's dark brown, and while James's was nearly straight -hanging down to just above his eyebrows and covering his ears a bit- Wes's hair tumbled over his forehead and down to the nape of his neck in messy waves.

James's brow furrowed, and he chose not to answer. He hated getting in the middle of things and picking sides.

Wes gave a short, snarky laugh. "Not even your own brother will defend you."

Elizabeth's fingers itched to grab a dagger and throw it at him, but she refrained for the moment. "Perhaps it is because he knows he does not need to defend me," she snapped.

Wes waved her comment away with his hand "Don't be silly. You simply-" he was cut off as Elizabeth sent a dagger flying not two inches past his face. Elizabeth smirked at the look on his face, his stormy grey-green eyes widened with shock.

"And no, I did not miss," she muttered, crossing her arms. Out of the corner of her eye she saw James shake his head. Whether it was in amusement or disappointment she was not sure.

"Miss Sommenfield? Mr. Montvale? Is everything all right?" came a quiet, timid voice. Elizabeth looked over Wes's shoulder at the door to the training room where Mary, one of the servants, stood. She was pale and had a bit of a terrified look on her face, and Elizabeth soon saw why. Sticking out of door frame next to her head was the dagger she had thrown.

Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a gasp, but also trying not to smile. "I am terribly sorry, Mary!" Elizabeth gushed, brushing past Wes and pulling the dagger from the wood. "I hope you know that I was not intending to hit you with the dagger, or even come close. I can assure you it was meant for Mr. Montvale."

Mary nodded, still looking worried. "Mr. Sudland would like all of you to come down into the parlour if it is not too much trouble," she managed quietly, not looking at Elizabeth.

"Of course," James jumped in. "Thank you, Mary." With that, Mary curtsied, turned around, and quickly retreated down the stairs. After a moment of silence, James sighed with a nod, saying, "Good work, you two."

Elizabeth put her head in a hand for a moment. Poor Mary probably thought she had gone mad. She soon straightened up and asked, "Shall we go down and see what Felix wants?" taking the strands of hair that had come out of her clip and putting them back so she didn't look like a wild woman.

"Indeed we shall," James nodded and ushered Elizabeth ahead of him down the stairs, Wes trailing behind.

When the party reached the parlour, they were surprised to find not just Felix, but several others standing or sitting in the room. The parlour was a room with a high ceiling and tall windows. Mostly covering the windows were long, maroon velvet curtains, a slightly lighter shade than that of the area rug that occupied the center of the floor. On the rug was an intricate pattern of dark red flowers with gold and green swirls. The chairs and sofas had floral patterned cushions. The legs were smooth, shiny oak to match the coffee table in the center. The wood underneath and surrounding the rug on all sides was stained darker than that of the chairs and table. A fire roared in the hearth behind where Felix paced.

"Ah, there you are," Felix looked up and stopped his pacing. Though he was in his mid thirties, Felix still looked rather young for someone of his age. His originally blonde hair had started to lighten and grey, but other than that he showed no obvious signs of aging. He almost never wore the proper gentleman's attire, which included a necktie, waistcoat, and overcoat, and today was no exception. He had left off the waistcoat and overcoat, leaving a pressed white shirt with black trousers and a loose necktie. "I would like to introduce you to the Gaeland family," Felix said, looking between Elizabeth, James and Wes. Elizabeth noticed Wes stiffen slightly beside her, but didn't really give it much thought.

The man who had been sitting in one of the armchairs rose, a smile on his face. Elizabeth guessed him to be only about twenty five, for it seemed he could hardly contain his energy and excitement, and his tumble of black hair showed no signs of greying. Elizabeth could tell he was genuinely excited to be at the Institute by the glowing smile he wore. It was not plastered on fakely as many smiles she had seen, and it made her feel as if she already knew and trusted Charles. And Trust was not something Elizabeth gave out willingly.

"May I introduce Charles Gaeland," Felix smiled, gesturing to Charles. "He is going to take over the Institute when I am too old to keep up with you all, so he is here to be trained," he explained.

"Welcome to the London Institute, Mr. Gaeland," James nodded, Elizabeth and Wes murmuring their welcomes behind him. "I am James Sommenfield, this is my sister Elizabeth, and this is Wesley Montvale," he said, gesturing to each in turn.

"Thank you," Charles smiled " And I hope you will soon feel comfortable calling me Charles." He turned to the woman on the couch next to him. She had long, honey blonde hair that cascaded down her back in waves and sat with a young boy in her lap. They rose too, the boy clinging tightly to his mother's skirts. "May I present my wife Catherine, and our son William," said Charles, beaming at the two with so much admiration and happiness in his eyes Elizabeth felt as if she and the others were all intruding. Elizabeth had not felt such happiness regarding family in years, and she could not help feeling a pang of jealousy and sadness. She quickly, however, brushed the thoughts away.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Elizabeth said, smiling first at Mrs. Gaeland and then at William, who retreated behind Catherine's skirts even further.

Catherine smiled, putting her hand lightly on William's head. "Come, William. Say hello," she told him in a quiet, gentle voice. William, who looked to be around five, seemed to think about it for a minute, and then disappeared completely behind his mother. Catherine laughed a light, easy laugh, tossing her hands up in mock frustration. "He will come around. We are so excited to be here!" she said, clasping her hands in front of her and smiling at the whole room. She too was sincerely pleased to be at the Institute, and Elizabeth had a feeling she was going to like Catherine. Catherine was about a head shorter than Charles, and had a very nice figure: not overweight, but not stick-like and sickly either. Though she appeared dainty and shy, the way she carried herself made it clear that she would not back down if it came to her family or matters of right and wrong.

"I hope you will find yourselves at home," James smiled, waving at William who had peeked around his mother.

"I am sure we will," Charles nodded. "I realize you must be weary of introductions for the moment, though there is one more of our party I think you should meet," he said apologetically. With that, a boy whom Elizabeth had not noticed before stood and joined the others. "This is my nephew, Haden," Charles explained. "He is going to be staying with us to learn as well." Haden was slightly taller than his uncle, but had the same mess of black hair. He looked a year or two older than Elizabeth's 17 years, and was quite handsome. She found herself staring at his face. He had sharply defined features, but his eyes were what caught her attention. They were deep green with hints of teal and blue around the edges, framed by dark lashes. He met her gaze for a moment before looking away, leaving Elizabeth blushing slightly.

Greetings were exchanged and soon Felix left to show Catherine and Charles to their room, leaving James, Elizabeth, Wes, and Haden in the parlour. James left with the intent of having tea in his room, though Elizabeth expected he was just tired of dealing with her and Wes. For a slightly awkward minute, no one said anything. Then, Wes looked Haden directly in the eye and crossed his arms.

"Haden," Wes spat.

"Wesley," Haden retorted.

* * *

**(Cue the dramatic music xD)**


	4. Chapter 3

**In response to a recent review by a guest, I see your point however hear me out. I cannot post it in a crossover because, well, it does not involve characters, plot, or setting from another book. I cannot post it as an original story because I am using the ideas of Cassandra Clare throughout the story. It may not be considered a typical fan fiction, but this is the closest category I can get. Nonetheless, I appreciate that you took time to voice your thoughts and if anyone reading knows of a category in which this would fit better, please let me know!**

**AngelFire**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"By the Angel, Wesley Montvale! Is there no one you can be agreeable with?" Elizabeth exclaimed, throwing her hands up and looking between the two boys. Face to face, Wes was only slightly taller than Haden, but Haden had broader shoulders and an overall more intimidating physical presence.

"Yes, I'm quite agreeable with my cat," Wes spat, not looking away from Haden. Elizabeth had seen him angry with her before, but Wes was beyond angry now. He was furious. He had gone slightly pale, his hands clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were turning a ghostly white.

"Your cat had to raise you, Wes, did he not?"Haden smirked then added, "That explains your manners. You never were your father's favorite were you?"

Wes moved as if he were going to hit Haden, but chose not to at the last second. "Excuse me," he muttered and then stalked off, obviously still fuming. Elizabeth stared after him, quite confused. Wes _never_ simply walked away from anyone like that.

"I apologize for that," Haden said after a moment, turning to Elizabeth. "Wes has a tendency to, well, I think you saw enough for yourself."

"Yes. I have seen him upset before, though never quite that upset," she mused. "I did not know you knew each other."

"You mean to say that Wes has never mentioned me?" said Haden, feigning a hurt expression. He laughed once, coldly. "We have never seen eye to eye," he paused and then added, "I think he rather resents me."

"Well spotted," said Elizabeth, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, well I'm sure you picked up on that much," he said, his mouth pulling up into a crooked smile that seemed to present Elizabeth with a challenge. She was not sure, at the moment, what sort of challenge it was, but it intrigued her.

"Indeed," she nodded, lifting her head slightly, determined not to give him the impression that he had caught her attention. "Now, If you will excuse me, I must go."

"Of course," Haden nodded. Elizabeth then exited the parlour and hurried off to her room, weary of Wes and his theatrics.

* * *

After leaving Wes, Haden, and Elizabeth in the parlour James returned to his room. Upon opening the door, James was greeted by the cheerful chirping of his parakeet Nigel. Smiling, James said, "Hello, Nigel." He had allowed Nigel to have free reign of the room, for hew was certain that Nigel would no go far, even with the window open. Nigel was small, even for a parakeet. He had black and white patterned wings with purple-grey on his chest and tail feathers, and bright eyes.

James walked over to the perch on which Nigel sat, holding his hand out to the bird. Nigel chirped and hopped onto his finger for a moment and then took off in a flurry of wings and feathers. He landed on top of a letter sealed with the mark of the Consul. James frowned, following the bird. "What have you got there, Nigel?" he asked, picking up the letter. "You know you are supposed to bring these to Felix, do you not?" James teased, blowing on Nigel and causing him to jump back and ruffle his feathers. Nigel then darted forward and pecked James's hand, though not hard enough to hurt. James laughed, tucking the letter into his pocket. "Come, Nigel. Let's take this to Felix."

* * *

Felix had returned from showing the Gaelands their room and was now sitting at a grand desk in his study, preparing to write a letter. The Institute was quite full now, and theaddition of the nephew had been a last minute decision. Felix looked up, hearing a quiet knock on the door. "Come," Felix called, setting down his pen. James came in, closing the door behind him. His bird was perched on his shoulder. "What can I do for you, James?" Felix inquired, folding his hands on the desk. James was quiet a lot of the time and didn't usually come to see him, so it must be fairly important.

"Nigel here brought me a letter that I believe is for you," James explained, reaching into the pocket of his overcoat and pulling out an envelope. "It looks to be from the Consul," he added, holding the letter out to Felix.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, James," Felix said, taking the letter and examining it. "Is that all then?" he asked, looking up.

"Yes," James nodded. "I shall leave you be then," he said and turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind him.

Felix opened the letter which was ,indeed, from the Consul.

_To: Mr. Felix Sudland_

_From: Consul Montvale_

_Felix, I hope you are doing well and that all is well with the Institute. As you have likely guessed, I am inquiring after my son, Wesley. I understand that he has gone to the Institute, though I have no such letter of confirmation from him even though I wrote to him a week ago. If you would be so kind as to send him home, you would be doing me a huge favor, for I do not have the time to come after him myself._

_I trust also that the Gaelands have arrived and are in good hands at the Institute now. I am terribly sorry about Haden coming on such short notice, however, I could not refuse him when he asked to go with his Uncle. The boy has potential, and I trust you will help him so that he may take my position as Consul in a year or two. Please give him my regards and wish him well for me._

_Sincerely,_

_Roger Montvale_

Felix folded the letter and placed it on his desk. He did not intend to send Wes back home. It would only bring both Wes and his father grief. Felix did not know what had happened between the two of them, but though Wes disliked the Institute, he obviously felt it was a better place for him than his own home. As for Haden Gaeland, Felix did not really know what to think. It was obvious that Roger thought highly of the boy, but he couldn't understand why. The two families were both very prominent families in the world of the Shadowhunters, and had often been at odds with each other. The idea that Roger would support a Gaeland more than his own son was nearly inconceivable.

Felix sighed and began writing to Consul Montvale. He didn't plan on mentioning the letter to Wes for fear it would just make him even more angry.

* * *

_Sorelli woke in a dimly lit room with no furniture or windows. The walls and floor were all bleak, grey stone marked with black swirling patterns. She sat up, wincing slightly. She ached all over, though she could not remember why or what had caused it. Gingerly, she sat up, pulled herself to the edge of the bed, and stood up. The floor was ice beneath her feet and made her shudder. She examined the room more carefully and noticed that the swirling patters on the wall were runes. Some of them she recognized, others were completely new to her, and yet a few looked similar to ones she knew, but not exactly the same. She frowned and placed her palm over the wall, which was also ice cold. When nothing happened, she shrugged and turned around to look at the room. She now realized that the room had no door. All four walls appeared to be solid stone. "_Mon Dieu,_" she murmured, shaking her head in puzzlement. Sorelli began to make her way back to the bed where she would at least be somewhat warmer. She still had her shawl, thankfully, which she wrapped around her shoulders. Just before crawling back into bed, the wall across from her began to shimmer, and one of the huge cloaked figures stepped _through _it. Surprised, Sorelli took a step back and muffled a surprised gasp. The creature was dressed in the same hooded black cloak as before, and once again she could not see its face. She now noticed, however, that the cloaks were not completely black. They had some sort of red trim..._

"Ah good,"_ the same voice from before echoed in her head,_ "You're awake."

* * *

**Nigel has got to be one of my favourite characters in this whole thing. Let me know what you think! (a.k.a. please review!)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Well here is chapter 4! I should stop being lazy and name the chapters, but that would be work! I decided to give it to you a day early because I'm really excited about what I'm writing now. Chapter 5 is on the longer-ish side, so be patient with me!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

James sat in the Institute's library in his favorite chair. It was next to a window overlooking the city, as the library was on one of the upper floors of the Institute. From his chair, he could see over the rooftops to glimpse the gleaming waters of the Thames, and, on a clear evening such as it was, he could see even beyond. In his lap sat a demonology textbook. Nigel was hopping around, occasionally hopping from the chair onto his shoulder or even his head, before eventually settling on the back of the chair.

James came to the library to escape the madness that was now the Institute. One could hardly walk down the hall without running into some unpleasant conflict between two or more of the Institute's inhabitants. He heard the door open, and Nigel chirped a greeting. At least that meant it was someone James would be willing to talk to. He looked up to see Elizabeth coming toward him. Nigel was not so friendly toward Wes or Haden.

"I wondered if I might find you here," Elizabeth smiled as she sat down in the chair across from him.

"I'm simply trying to keep my sanity," James chuckled, closing the book. "It's a wonder the three of you have not killed each other yet."

"I think Haden is quite the agreeable sort," Elizabeth protested. "You, of course, know my opinions of Mr. Montvale, however."

James was silent for a moment, thinking, and then said, "the Gaelands are an interesting family. Do you know much about them?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"They are one of the oldest Shadowhunter families, along with the Montvales. They are both very proud families," he mused. "As you know, Wes's father is Consul, and Haden's father is the Inquisitor. Both families have been competing for the two positions since nearly the beginning, and have both been rather nasty to each other."

"Why are you telling me this?" Elizabeth asked, searching James's face.

"Just so that you know what you're dealing with," he stated with a shrug and flipped open his book again.

"You know, there are other books out there besides demonology," Elizabeth pointed out, fighting a smile.

"Yes, I know," James nodded solemnly. "I find that when I read fiction, I only find myself wishing I were somewhere else or in another situation. Our lives are short enough that there is simply no time for such things if one is to truly appreciate what we have been given."

Elizabeth shook her head slightly, smiling now, almost sadly. "Just remember, James, you are only 18 and still have a lot of life to live. Do not try to grow up too fast." With that, Elizabeth stood and quietly left the library. James stared after her, thinking on what she had said.

He found himself remembering his eleven year old self standing at the side of his mother's bed as her health slowly deteriorated. Elizabeth was only ten at the time, their older brother Peter was already off at the Institute, and their father was so grief-stricken he rarely came out of his room anymore.

"James," his mother had said, her voice only barely a whisper. "Take care of Lizzy for me. Be strong for her."

At the time, James had only nodded, taking her hand and pressing it against his face. He had taken his task quite seriously. Once their mother died, their father could not be relied on for anything, so James took it upon himself to make sure they had the things they needed. When Elizabeth was old enough to come to the Institute for training, James, who had waited a year to begin his training, brought her with him. To James, Elizabeth had always seemed so much younger than she was, even though there was only a little more than a year separating them. He remembered holding her hand as they walked up the steps, her eyes wide with wonder. She had been fragile and vulnerable at the time. Nothing like she was now.

James was jerked back to the present by the loud, piercing squawk of Nigel, alerting him to the arrival of Haden. James couldn't help a small smile as Haden gave Nigel a wary look, however he knew Nigel was just acting tough. He wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gaeland," James said, standing and straightening his waistcoat. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Please, call me Haden," he replied, looking now at James. "I am simply coming to bring you to the study. Felix has requested our presence."

"Very well," James nodded and then set his book down. "Come, Nigel," he added, turning to the bird and holding out his hand onto which Nigel hopped.

* * *

Upon entering the study, James and Haden found the others already assembled. Elizabeth and Wes were ignoring each other, standing on opposite ends of the room, Felix was at his desk looking at some papers, and Charles and Catherine were standing together in the center of the room, taking quietly. It was a little tight with all seven Shadowhunters crammed into the relatively small study.

Felix looked up as the last two came in, saying "Ah good. Well now that we're all here, I have something to share with you all." He opened a drawer and pulled out a neatly folded letter, the seal already broken. "This is a letter from the Paris Institute," he explained. "I suppose the best way to convey the information is to simply read it to you, so that is what I shall do." He went on to read:

_To: Mr. Felix Sudland_

_From: Sébastien Clair-Étoile_

_My dear Felix I write to you with the utmost distress concerning my daughter, Sorelli. She has been missing from the Institute for nearly three days, and by the time this letter reaches you it will have been longer. I have notified anyone who may be of help in recovering her, but I felt the need to alert you and your Shadowhunters at the Institute. I know you to be reliable and trustworthy, and your Shadowhunters are highly respected and capable. _

_We have no information at this time to give us a hint as to where to begin, however, we shall not give up so easily. I pray that you are able to shed some light onto this terrible situation, and I humbly thank you for anything you do._

_Raziel watch over you,_

_Sébastien_

For a moment the room was silent. Haden spoke first: "Have they tried to track her?"

"Of course they have, you twit!" Wes snapped angrily, his arms crossed. "Sébastien is smart enough to have tried that already."

Haden opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Felix. "That is enough, Wesley," he said curtly, walking around to the front of his desk and leaning against it. "At the moment, there is nothing we can do save keep an eye and ear out for anything that may give us a clue." He looked from one member of the Institute to the next, making eye contact with everyone in the room. "Until we know more, I urge you to all be on your guard and keep a sharp eye."The room remained silent, as if a dark cloud had descended and settled among them. Felix sighed audibly and said, "Well on that cheerful note, you may all return to your business."

Charles and Catherine were the first to exit the room, followed closely by Haden and then James. Wes brushed past Elizabeth, sneering in a nearly inaudible voice, "Do not worry, I shall protect you. If it's convenient for me, that is." With that, he continued past James and disappeared around a corner.

Elizabeth started to rush after him, but James caught her arm. "Don't bother with him," he murmured. "He is not worth your time."

Elizabeth sighed exasperatedly and shook off James's hold, but marched off in the opposite direction from Wes. James rolled his eyes and then started back to his room.

* * *

After the meeting in the study, Elizabeth had gone to her room and changed into her gear. She was now in the training room, sifting through the various swords and knives. She figured she had done enough dagger throwing for a lifetime, so she picked up her long sword. It wasn't a particularly thick sword; the blade was only about an inch wide. It was, however, deadly sharp. Elizabeth liked this blade because it was not too heavy for her, and she was fascinated by the intricate engravings that ran all along the blade.

She had just finished examining the engravings again when someone opened the door to the training room. She looked up to find Haden, and was unable to help a bit of surprise from showing on her face. "Mr. Gaeland," she acknowledged him, trying to keep her voice even.

"Haden," he corrected her with the same half smile that had intrigued her earlier.

"Very well, Haden," Elizabeth nodded, setting the sword down. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was hoping you would do me the honour of taking a walk with me," he explained, clasping his hands behind his back and lifting his chin slightly. "Or we could take a carriage if you would prefer."

Elizabeth could not help the harsh laugh that escaped her lips. "Could you not have asked ten minutes ago before I went through all of the trouble to change into my gear?"

"You could always go in your gear," Haden suggested. "You could pin up your hair under a hat and act as my cousin or younger brother," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow and replied, "I would rather not." She picked up the sword, but put it back in its place on the rack. "I will accompany you on a walk, Mr. Gaeland. Allow me time to change, and I shall meet you downstairs."

Haden nodded and silently made his way back down the stairs. Elizabeth sighed at the thought of putting her dress back on, and on the way back to her room, called for Mary to come help her, for she did not feel up to attempting it by herself.

* * *

James returned to his chair in the library after quick detour to his room to put Nigel in his cage. He settled down again, the demonology book in his lap, and began to flip through to find where he had left off. As he was flipping through, a small piece of parchment fluttered from the pages of the book and landed on his knee. With a frown, James picked it up and examined it. One side was blank, but the other side was filled with small, neat handwriting. Unable to help his curiosity, James began to read.

* * *

**Well I hope you liked it! Please, I'd love a review or two if you've got time!**

**Have a nice evening!**


	6. Chapter 5

**I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I was when I saw I had new reviews, so thank you so much both of you! I really wanted to get this to you yesterday as a thank you, and I'm good, but not that good. It's just nice to know someone is reading!**

**Thanks so much guys!**

**AngelFire**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

After returning to her room, followed by Mary, Elizabeth began to remove her gear. It was much easier to take on and off than any dress. It made her somewhat envious of men's clothing. Not that she really minded dresses, once they were on and the fussing was done.

"Miss?" came Mary's timid voice from over by her wardrobe. "Which dress would you like?" she asked.

"Oh it is of little importance, Mary," Elizabeth told her. "I am only going on a walk with Haden." By the time Elizabeth came back from washing her face and running a comb through her hair, Mary had set out a light yellow dress. The color had always reminded Elizabeth of the little yellow flowers she and her mother had grown in their garden at their home in Dover. The flowers only ever grew to be a few inches high, and the five delicate petals that bloomed from the center were barely the length of a finger nail. In the summer, Elizabeth and her mother would collect them and weave crowns of pale yellow each other to wea**r.** With their circlets of flowers, they would then make the short walk to the beach where Elizabeth loved to run in the sand, her mother laughing behind her. They never cared if their dresses got ruined by the waves that washed over their feet, and they welcomed the damp, salty-smelling wind that brushed their faces and tangled their hair.

Elizabeth rubbed the fabric of the dress between her fingers subconsciously. She was brought back to the present by Mary's quiet question: "Is that dress suitable, miss?"

"Yes, of course, Mary!" Elizabeth exclaimed, scolding herself for allowing to become lost in the past like that. "If you would just help me put it on, please."

Mary nodded and silently helped the other girl into the dress, lacing up the corset. When they had finished, Mary asked if Elizabeth needed anything else, and departed when Elizabeth replied no. Elizabeth soon left the room also and headed down to the front doors of the Institute. As she walked, she couldn't help wondering why Haden wished to walk with her, and she couldn't help remembering the challenge in his smile. She turned the corner and the front doors came into sight. Haden was waiting, but he hadn't noticed her yet. Elizabeth had to admit that he looked rather dashing in his dark grey overcoat and hat, which made his hair look blacker than ever in comparison.

"Have you been waiting long, Mr. Gaeland?" Elizabeth inquired as she approached. Haden turned at the sound of her voice, smiling. His eyes seemed to spark with life.

"Of course not, Miss Sommenfield," Haden replied with a slight bow. "Shall we?" he asked as he offered his arm to her.

Elizabeth nodded and linked her arm through his with a smile and said, "Indeed we shall."

* * *

From his chair near the fire, Wes watched Haden and Elizabeth depart for their walk. He did not envy Haden one bit. Even the thought of being alone with Elizabeth for any period of time terrified him. Why? He was not sure. Something about the way she was able to so easily obliterate his control made him nervous.

He shook his head and returned to the paper in his lap. He was again attempting to write to his father. The letter still rested in his pocket, but it now carried a weight to it that he could not seem to shake off. He stared at the paper, pen poised to write, but he knew not where to begin. With a sigh, he set the pen down just as Catherine and William walked into the room.

"Oh, hello, Wesley!" Catherine said with a warm smile. "Are we bothering you?"

Wesley shrugged and replied, "I suppose not."

William, who had grown more accustomed to the Institute as well as its inhabitants, wandered around the room absently, touching the furniture and feeling the curtains with a curious hand. Wes watched him wearily out of the corner of his eye, never having liked small children much.

"I was hoping I would find you here," Catherine explained as she took a seat across from Wes, though she too was watching William. When Wes made no response she continued, though a bit more hesitantly. "You see, your mother and I were good friends, and I-" but she was cut off by Wes, who had abruptly turned his gaze from William to glare daggers at Catherine.

"You are sorry for my loss and you sympathize sincerely with me?" he finished, his voice sharp.

"No, Wes-" Catherine started, but again Wes interrupted her.

"I do not want to hear it!" he snapped, standing abruptly and storming out of the room. His vision had gone almost completely white with anger as he shoved the doors open and let them slam shut loudly in his wake.

Back in the room, Catherine stared after Wes with a sad look gracing her features. She sighed almost inaudibly and rose in a rustle of skirts. William began to follow where Wes had gone, but Catherine caught him by the arm. "No, my darling," she told him quietly and walked out of the room with William in tow.

* * *

Arm in arm, Haden and Elizabeth strolled through the streets of London. Miraculously, It was not raining, though grey clouds hovered on the horizon and promised rain soon in the afternoon. Upon leaving the Institute, the two Shadowhunters had turned away from the Thames and walked deeper into the city. Elizabeth always thought she knew this part of the city well. The thing she loved about London, however, was that it never ceased to surprise her. Some days she would discover a seemingly new alley or road that, though it had always been there, would lead her to unexplored corners of the city.

After minutes of walking in silence, Haden finally spoke. "I could not help noticing that Wesley and yourself do not get along," he stated. "What is your opinion of him?"

"Need you ask," Elizabeth scoffed, unable to help a small smirk. "I do not think highly of him, however, I will admit his obstinacy does him credit," she added the last part grudgingly. Glancing over, she saw Haden fighting a smile. "Did I say something amusing?" she inquired innocently. Though the clouds had moved in and it was getting chilly, their pace had slowed to a leisurely stroll.

Haden shook his head slightly, giving in to the smile. "No, I simply find it ironic that you consider obstinacy an admirable quality," he explained. "Most tend to view it negatively."

"I cannot respect anyone who does not stand by their beliefs, whether I think them correct or not," she replied simply. "What good would it do to have the best morals in the world but lack the courage and adamancy to keep with them?"

"I see your point," Haden nodded and then was silent for a moment. "Though I would contend there is a point where it becomes more than stubbornness and becomes simply vexing."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Elizabeth allowed, staring straight ahead. Occasionally she worried if she fell into that category. She had been told more than once by her family, friends, and relatives that she was too stubborn and headstrong. It was rather fortunate that she was a Shadowhunter, for if the Shadowhunters, who were quite liberal on the subject, thought her too outspoken, the mundanes would think her a downright disgrace to the female gender.

"Forgive me," came Haden's voice to break her away from her thoughts. "Have I offended you?"

"Not at all!" Elizabeth replied perhaps a little too quickly. Eager to change the subject, she said, "Tell me about your family." Hoping she did not come off as rude or too up front, she added: "James mentioned something of a competition between the Gaelands and the Montvales."

Haden gave a short laugh. "Competition is hardly the word for it." He paused to think. "I would call it a rivalry. Our two families have never liked each other, and have been trying for centuries to have both the Inquisitor and the Consul from one family," he explained. "If my father has his way, I will become consul after Robert Montvale, and my cousin William will become Inquisitor when he is ready."

"You really believe that Consul Montvale will just give his position away?" Elizabeth asked, a bit confused. She knew Consul Montvale to be a very persistent man and not easily influenced.

"Not just to anyone, no. You see, Consul Montvale is rather fond of me." Haden clarified. "It is very unusual, for our families, that is, that my father and Wes's father should get along. They are actually good friends, the first between the families in almost a hundred years. It is even more unusual, however, that Consul Montvale should wish me to succeed him."

"And that is why Wesley does not have a good opinion of you," Elizabeth stated, nodding her head slightly.

"Part of the reason, at any rate."

Elizabeth turned to him with an eyebrow raised. "Part of the reason?"

Haden chuckled quietly, looking straight ahead with a smile. "The friendship between the fathers did not pass on to their sons. Wes and I have had our own rivalry since we were six years old." When Elizabeth said nothing, he continued. "We were often brought together to train under a special instructor. Being boys, we naturally felt the need to outperform the other, and the tensions between our families certainly heightened that desire." Haden paused to think for a minute and then grinned slightly. "There was, however, one particular event that made him dislike me."

"Pray tell," she said, unable to suppress a small grin herself.

"Looking back it is rather silly, but then, we were young." Again, he grinned to himself. "You see, there was this girl named Anne," Haden started, but stopped when he saw Elizabeth suppressing a grin. "Allow me to finish before you proceed to mock me," he teased, smiling now as well.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement and let him continue.

"Wes and I were perhaps nine or ten at the time and Anne was a year or two younger. The three of us often spent summers together, for Anne's mother sent her to the Montvale estate during those months." Haden was looking at the ground now without smiling. "However, Anne was a mundane." Seeing Elizabeth's incredulous look, Haden quickly added, "It made no difference to Wes or I, I was merely mentioning it. In any case, Anne attached herself to Wes, and I was jealous. It was merely a silly child's fancy at best, but seeing her practically worship him was torment to me."

Elizabeth peeked at Haden out of the corner of her eye. She could tell he was lost in memories, his vivid green eyes looking somewhat glazed as he recounted the events. When she looked hard, she could also see that there was something of sadness and perhaps even anguish buried beneath his otherwise nonchalant expression. He caught her eye, and Elizabeth quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks heat slightly.

"It has a happier ending," Haden teased. "There was one day when Wes and Anne had gone out to the river, and apparently Wes had become cross with her and yelled. I was sitting under a tree near the house, reading, when Anne came running, tears in her eyes. She told me everything and for the remainder of the summer Anne stayed with me. I was the happiest person alive, I was certain." Haden was smiling to himself now, the anguish gone from his eyes. "You are going to think me horrid for what I am about to tell you."

"Surely not," Elizabeth laughed. "It cannot be that horrific."

"We shall see," Haden grinned and then continued. "The day Anne was to leave, she, Wes, and I walked out to the carriage. She would hardly acknowledge Wes, and, simply to vex him, I kissed Anne on the cheek just before she stepped into the carriage."

Elizabeth covered her mouth with a hand to attempt, without much success, to hide her laugh, saying, "You cannot be serious!"

"Oh I am quite serious," Haden nodded, attempting to keep a straight face, though Elizabeth could see he was having difficulty. "Did I not tell you it was ridiculous? It apparently made him completely loathe me, for he hasn't forgiven me, and likely never will." Haden paused and broke out into a grin, saying, "Though I'd do it all again to see the look on his face."

"Haden!" Elizabeth scolded, though she knew she sounded more teasing than critical. To her amusement, Haden colored slightly and ducked his head.

"I know I should apologize, but I have no regret." It was a firm statement, and Elizabeth looked up to see him with an almost determined look on his face, as if he were completely set on disliking Wes. When Elizabeth said nothing, Haden looked down, looking embarrassed. "You must think me strange for telling you all of this. I do not know what Wes has told you, but I wanted to share my account if he were to try to convince you of something otherwise."

Elizabeth couldn't help a sharp laugh. "Wesley and I rarely communicate beyond shouting and disagreeing with one another, so there is no danger of him ever telling me such tales."

"I see," Haden nodded.

They had made something of a loop and were now standing in front of St. Paul's Cathedral. Towering above them, the massive dome was the highest point in the city. The cathedral had always been one of Elizabeth's favorite places to visit, though she had never been inside. She didn't really care to go inside either. Anything with order and organization bothered her. Inside of the cathedral had the marks of order everywhere, from the religious services held there to the decor and design of the rooms. The reason she liked St. Paul's so much was because it was one of the only cathedrals that was not perfectly symmetrical from the outside. Sure, the differences were minute and hardly noticeable, but they made all the difference to Elizabeth.

Haden must have sensed her excitement because he glanced at her and said, "I assume I chose well?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded, still looking at the building.

"We could go inside if you would like."

"No," she shook her head. "It would ruin it."

Haden was relatively confused by the comment, but chose not to inquire further. Elizabeth felt his gaze on her, but continued looking at the cathedral, finding each of the lovely differences.

"Dear me!" Haden exclaimed suddenly, jumping slightly with surprise.

"Whatever is the matter, Haden?" said Elizabeth, unable to help a slight smile.

"I believe," he explained, wiping away the large raindrop that had hit his cheek, "that we are about to be rained upon." As he said it, the rain began to pick up, fat drops landing with a splat all around them.

"Oh dear!" Elizabeth laughed, reaching for her umbrella. "Oh dear!" she repeated, sounding somewhat mournful. Her umbrella was sitting, nice and dry, in her room in the institute right now, for it was not on her arm.

Haden laughed, taking off his hat and placing it on her head.

"Why thank you, sir," Elizabeth grinned, fighting back a giggle.

"Of course, my Lady," Haden replied, also laughing.

It was nearly pouring now, so when Haden grabbed her arm and began to hurry toward the institute, Elizabeth hiked up her skirts and followed, laughing as well.

* * *

**Hope you found this chapter interesting! Do forgive me, but I am having a slight plot hiccup with this story plus I am currently working on two others, so if I'm late in updating, I just wanted to apologize in advance.** **I'll do my best to keep up, but just wanted you to know!**


	7. Chapter 6

**So sorry I'm late-ish on the update. I went away for the weekend where we had no internet, and I also didn't have much motivation to write. Anyway, here it is!**

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**Chapter 6**

After lying on his bed for the past hour, Wes decided it was time to get up. With a sigh, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and then, rocking back so he sat on his heels, he paused for a moment. He rubbed his face with his hands once and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood in one smooth motion. He knew he should not have stormed away from Catherine as he had, and he really should not have locked himself in his room. Catherine had come by to check on him once, and, well, he had been rather unpleasant.

Straightening his waistcoat with one hand, Wes opened the door and walked out into the hall of the institute. Thankfully, it was empty. He proceeded to walk toward the library, where he hoped he wouldn't be bothered when he heard the voices of Elizabeth and Haden coming up the stairs. He muttered curses under his breath and ducked into one of the spare rooms. He realized he was being foolish, but he did not want to interact with Elizabeth or Haden, much less both at once.

Elizabeth came into sight followed by Haden. They were both sopping wet, and the hem of Elizabeth's skirt was splattered with mud. Wet as it was, Elizabeth's gold hair, slightly darker with the water, hung in strands down to the small of her back. She laughed, bringing Wes's attention to her face. When she laughed, her brilliant blue eyes lit up and her whole face seemed to glow.

Reaching up, Elizabeth plucked Haden's hat from her head and returned it to him. When Haden reached for Elizabeth's hand to kiss it, Wes turned away out of embarrassment. When he turned, it was all he could do to keep from shouting out in surprise, for James and Nigel were both staring at him, James with a very amused expression on his face. Wes had not entered the spare room as he had thought. He had entered James's.

* * *

Upon leaving Elizabeth, Haden had returned to his room to change into dry clothes. In his head, he kept replaying their conversation. It was more of his childhood than he had shared with anyone. What he hadn't told her, however, was that as soon as his father had found out about Anne, he had forbid Haden from seeing her. That summer was the last time they saw one another.

Haden clenched his fists in anger at the memory. The only reason his father had objected to Anne was because she was a mundane. No Gaeland had ever married a non-Shadowhunter, and Edward Gaeland was not going to have his son be the first. Haden angrily began to change, promising himself that he would never talk or think of Anne again.

* * *

Neither James nor Wes said anything until the door to Elizabeth's room had closed and Haden's footsteps retreated down the hall. Wes opened his mouth to make an excuse and made to leave, but James held up a hand, forcing Wes to shut his mouth.

"Spying is not an ideal way to win either of their favor," James said simply, crossing his arms and eyeing Wes suspiciously.

Wes held up his hands defensively. "I only wished to avoid an unpleasant scene. I thought this was one of the spare rooms, and it seemed a good place to get out of the way."

James seemed to be satisfied with his answer, but still added, "just be careful, Wesley."

Wes muttered an acknowledgement under his breath and then quickly exited the room. What had James meant? Careful of what? Shaking his head, Wes hurried toward the library, hoping to finally be out of the way and not disturbed.

* * *

Charles strode excitedly toward the parlour of the Institute, a letter in his hand and a grin on his face. As he rounded the final corner, he nearly ran straight into Elizabeth, who gave a startled cry and jumped out of the way.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" Charles exclaimed, sincerely worried he had hurt or frightened her.

"Tis no matter," Elizabeth assured him. "I welcome the opportunity to test my reflexes," she teased, a warm smile on her face. Charles couldn't help noticing that Elizabeth always seemed to relax around him. It was true that they did not have a close relationship, but Charles hoped that Elizabeth would soon open up to him, even just a little.

"Well I'm glad I ran into you, even if it was nearly literally," he smiled. "I have news that I should like to share with everyone."

"I suppose you would not tell me now?" Elizabeth asked, curiosity and excitement growing in her eyes.

"Now how would that be fair?" Charles teased. "I should like to surprise all of you at once."

"Then it is good news?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Well then I shall help you gather everyone," Elizabeth stated and then turned quickly and bounded gracefully down the hallway. Charles smiled watching her go. Elizabeth thrived on information. Anything that involved learning, really. She was quick and picked things up easily, a trait which Charles admired and occasionally envied. Charles would occasionally worry he wouldn't live up to the expectations set on him. Especially with the reputation his family carried. Though he knew he could never accomplish his older brother Edward's reputation and position, Charles planned on making his own mark through the Institute.

He hadn't realized he'd been pacing, but he stopped moving when the others began to enter the room.

"Hello, Charles," James greeted him cheerfully, walking in and sitting in a chair. James was followed closely by Haden, then Wes, and then Elizabeth hurrying them along. "You must have something interesting to share, for I have not seen Eliza soimpatient for the commencement of a meetingin a long time," James mused, playfully tugging on a strand of Elizabeth's hair as she walked by.

"Yes, well-" he stopped as Catherine walked in. He could tell she was trying to hide worry. "Kitty, darling, is something the matter?" Charles asked quietly with a slight frown.

"Oh no, It's just that I cannot get Felix to come out of his study," Catherine explained, shrugging her shoulders. "We will simply tell him later.

Charles nodded, and Catherine took a seat as well. "We will let Felix know later," Charles announced with a smile. "I apologize for the mystery, but I wanted to share with all of you at once." He took his time in dramatically opening the letter, earning a quiet laugh from his audience. Grinning, he began to summarize the letter, not feeling the need to read it word for word. "Sébastien Clair-Étoile and his family have decided to pay us a visit here at the London Institute." He paused to let the quiet murmurs die down. "They will be arriving the day after tomorrow, providing their journey went well, hoping their arrival will bring some news of Sorelli." He folded the letter and put it back in his pocket. "They've searched nearly the entirety of France, you see, so Sébastien is hoping there will be more answers in London."

"The day after tomorrow!" Catherine exclaimed. "I shall have to prepare rooms!" she fretted, preparing to stand.

Charles gently rested a hand on her shoulder, signaling that she should stay seated. "You will have plenty of time, my dear," he assured her and then turned to address everyone again. "I have decided that we are going to hold a ball in celebration of their arrival." He paused, having anticipated protest from Haden and Wes in particular, but they merely shrugged, so he went on. "You may know that Sébastien is well-liked among the Downwolrders. We have invited as many as possible without it seeming suspicious in hopes that one of them will know something of Sorelli's disappearance and who may be behind it." Elizabeth was now suppressing a grin, and Wes gave a nod of approval.

"Right then. That is all I have for you for now. We will meet again with Sébastien and his party before the ball to discuss strategy." He was about to dismiss them when he remembered a point he had wanted to address. "Oh! and while I have you all here, I want to remind you all to be on your very best behavior," he warned sternly, looking particularly between Elizabeth and Wes.

"Why of course, Charles! Wesley and I would not dream of embarrassing you in front of the Clair-Étoiles," Elizabeth replied, though Charles was unsure if she was being sincere or sarcastic.

"Very good," Charles nodded. "Well I shall leave you all to yourselves, however I want this Institute in the best condition for when the Clair-Étoiles arrive." The others all voiced their acknowledgements and filed out.

Charles sighed with happy relief. That had been the first time he had ever made an announcement or decision without consulting Felix, and he was rather satisfied with how things had gone. He went off to find Catherine, passing Felix's study on the way. There was witchlight seeping under the crack between the door and the floor, but there were no other sounds to hint that there was anyone in there. With a shrug, Charles moved on.


	8. Chapter 7

**Be prepared for (I think) adorableness! **

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**Chapter 7**

Since Charles' announcement, everyone had been bustling about to prepare for the arrival of their guests. Elizabeth now found herself on the way to a spare room carrying an armload of clean sheets. She had meant it when she told Charles she would do her best not to get into an argument with Wes, though it was proving not to be necessary. They had both been so busy running errands or straightening up that even if they did see each other, it was only a passing in the hall.

Managing to open the door with her elbow, Elizabeth came into the bedroom only to find William sitting in the middle of the unmade bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked up at Elizabeth with wide, almost scared eyes and scrambled to jump off the bed.

"William!" Elizabeth smiled at the boy as he prepared to run out the door. At the sound of his name, however, he stopped and turned. "Have you been hiding in here?" Elizabeth asked him, depositing her load of sheets on the bed.

William nodded in response, brushing his hair, fine and honey blonde like his mothers, out of his eyes.

"Maybe you are the smart one," Elizabeth teased. "Would you like to help me make the bed? You would be able to stay here longer."

At that, William broke into a huge grin. "Yes please."

Elizabeth smiled warmly at him and then handed him the corner of a sheet.

She wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but soon Elizabeth was wrapped from the shoulders down in a sheet and was chasing William around the room. They were both laughing hysterically, Elizabeth's louder clear laugh and William's squeals and giggles coming together.

"I'm going to catch you!" Elizabeth managed between laughs, feigning an angry tone even though she knew it was not very good.

"No, no, no!" William squealed, giggling like mad.

Elizabeth was just about to catch him when she tripped on the sheet and went crashing to the ground with a thud. For a moment she was too shocked to move or speak, and William ran over worriedly saying, "Miss Liza! Miss Liza!"

Just then, Elizabeth broke into a fit of laughter, and after a moment, William began giggling along with her. Elizabeth began untangling herself from the sheet, both she and William still laughing.

The door burst open and Catherine came in, hands on her hips. "What in the name of the Angel is going on up here?" she demanded, then became more surprised than anything when she saw the two on the floor.

Able to finally catch her breath from laughing, Elizabeth stood, grinning. "I apologize, Catherine," she began. "William and I had started to make the bed and, well, it turned into a game of chase."

William was smiling up at his mother, who couldn't help returning the smile.

"Well I suppose I should let you get back to your bed making," Catherine grinned, looking between the two. As she walked out the door, she paused and said over her shoulder, "though I do ask that you make the bed rather than play chase"

Elizabeth laughed once and replied, "of course." Once Catherine had shut the door, Elizabeth turned and grinned mischievously at William, who giggled back at her. "Well I suppose we ought to finish what we started," she said, creeping toward him, still grinning. Before William understood her meaning, Elizabeth had gently scooped him up and set him on the bed and began tickling him.

"No!" he squealed again, trying to push her away. "That tickles!"

Elizabeth laughed and let him up. "Oh my. Well now we really should finish making the bed or your mother will be very cross with us both."

William looked a little put out, but nodded with understanding. It was not five minutes before they finished the bed. Elizabeth had showed William how to tuck the corners tightly and to make sure the sheet was even with the comforter. It had made her wish she had a younger sibling. Being the youngest herself, she had never had the experience of being looked up to, and she couldn't help hoping William looked up to her.

After dinner was over, most everyone was preparing for bed. Elizabeth had decided to linger a moment in the parlour, curled up in a chair by the remnants of the fire. She was staring into it, letting the shapes created by the glowing embers jump out at her. Tired as she was, she did not realize Catherine had approached until she sat in the chair opposite Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked up quickly, smiling. "Oh hello, Catherine," she greeted. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, I just wanted to thank you for playing with William. I think he has been rather lonely here without any children his age. Today was the first time I had seen him really laugh since we've come here."

"It was my pleasure," Elizabeth assured her. "I too had fun."

Catherine nodded, looking somewhat tired. Elizabeth knew she had been on her feet the entire day making sure everything would be ready for the arrival of the Clair-Étoiles the next day.

"You should go rest, Catherine," Elizabeth told her. "Tomorrow will also be a big day."

Catherine nodded again and rose in a rustle of skirts. "Yes," she agreed. "Do not stay up too late, Elizabeth," Catherine said fondly in a motherly fashion.

Elizabeth acknowledged her, and then resumed staring at the embers. She was aware enough now that she was not startled by Haden's appearance. "Dear me I am popular tonight," she teased, not looking away from the fire.

"I beg your pardon?" Haden asked, a confused expression on his face.

"Never mind," Elizabeth dismissed the question, sitting up and stretching her arms with a yawn.

Haden shrugged, sitting in the chair Catherine had just vacated. He was still wearing his trousers from earlier, however his shirt was completely untucked and hung loosely around him.

"Can you not sleep?" Elizabeth asked, pulling her legs up and sitting criss cross in the chair. She fidgeted with the sleeves of her cardigan, pulling them down over her knuckles.

Haden shook his head. "It is not so late yet."

Elizabeth laughed quietly. "Well Charles was asleep on the couch and even Wesley looked tired, so it is not unreasonable to assume you tried to sleep."

"I see your point," Haden nodded. "But no, I simply wanted to talk to you."

"Well," Elizabeth said around a yawn, "You have my attention."

Had Elizabeth been more awake, perhaps she would have noticed Haden take a deep, almost shaky breath. "I was hoping you would save a dance for me at the ball tomorrow," he managed bravely.

Elizabeth's face must have shown her surprise, for Haden's hopeful look began to dissolve. "Of course, Haden!" She exclaimed quickly. "I just did not expect to be asked in advance," she explained, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Haden had leaned back and his face was in shadow, so Elizabeth was forced to guess at his expression. "Oh, well, I was unsure if I would be able to catch your attention tomorrow, so I thought it better to ask now."

"I see," Elizabeth nodded. After a moment she added, "And you would have been able to catch my attention."

She heard Haden chuckle quietly as he stood to leave. "Goodnight, Elizabeth," he said quietly as he began to walk out."And..." he hesitated, "Do be careful tomorrow, please. You never know what could happen when Downworlders and Nephilim mix"

Elizabeth stiffened at the last comment. "What are you implying," she asked, her tone slightly sharp as she turned to glare at him.

Though she could not see it, Haden's cheeks burned red with embarrassment for his comment. "Nothing. Forget I said anything." And with that he closed the door and retreated.

A scowling Elizabeth turned back to the fire, pulling her cardigan tightly around her and crossing her arms. She was growing tired of being treated as a breakable child simply because she was younger. And a woman. But yes, she decided, she would still dance with him.


	9. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, sorry this is late. I've been quite busy lately. Unfortunately my lovely friend who has been helping me edit this is away so I'm the only one who has checked it. I am not always good at picking out errors, especially in my own writing (because I know what I meant and whatnot), so please forgive me if you find any! Feel free to tell me also.**

**Thanks!**

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**Chapter 8**

The next morning, Elizabeth woke up still in the chair by the fire in the parlour. It took her a moment, but when she realized where she was and what time it was, she jumped up, muttering a stream of curses. She could have sworn she heard someone laughing quietly, but there was no one in the room and no one in the hall when she opened the door to hurry to her room to change.

Once she had changed, Elizabeth joined the others for breakfast. All of the others were seated except for Wes and Felix, who were not in the room. She took a seat between William and James, who raised his eyebrows at her over his teacup. She made a face at him, took a slice of bread, and began to spread it with butter.

"I am guessing the Clair-Étoiles will be here around noon," Felix began, looking around the table. "I do hope Wes joins us soon."

"No need to wait, I am here" Wes announced, striding into the room and swiftly taking a seat. He looked as if he had only waken minutes ago. His hair was tousled he still looked tired.

"Very good," Charles nodded. He was restless, Elizabeth noticed. Tapping his fingers, constantly checking the time. Elizabeth fought a smile. Charles was more anxious than need be. It was not as if the Consul or the Inquisitor was coming. Charles opened his mouth to say something, but just then Felix walked in. Elizabeth was surprised to see him dressed very nicely, waistcoat and all.

"I suggest you get this cleaned up soon," he stated, gesturing to the breakfast table. "Sébastien often over estimates his arrival time. I expect they will be here within the hour."

Upon hearing that, Charles jumped up and began to haul things to the kitchen, calling for the kitchen staff to come help. Elizabeth sighed, managing to grab a muffin before they were taken away.

"The rest of you, go prepare yourselves." Felix turned away, his stance wide and his hands resting in fists on his hips. "I cannot have you looking a mess for when they arrive." With that, those still sitting sprung into action. Wes had hurried back upstairs, followed soon by Haden. James was already completely dressed and ready, so he simply moved into the parlour where he would be out of the way. Elizabeth called Mary to help her lace the back of her dress and, once in her room, began to comb through her hair. Approximately half an hour later, the bell of the Institute rang causing Elizabeth to jump slightly. She quickly made her way down to join the others in the parlour where it was agreed they would greet the Clair-Êtoiles.

Elizabeth was the last to come to the parlour. There were varying degrees of restlessness between the others. Felix was completely at ease, sprawled out in a chair and Charles was pacing quietly behind the couch on which Catherine sat stiff and alert. Wes and Haden were both standing off to the side looking somewhat anxious, and James sat in a chair reading a book. Elizabeth elected to sit in the chair opposite James where she would be least likely to engage in a quarrel.

No sooner had she sat down than Mary came through the doors to announce their guests. "I present Monsieur and Madame Clair-Étoile," Mary said in her loudest voice, which was still only barely above normal talking volume. As she turned to bring them in, everyone in the parlour rose and turned to the door.

The man who walked through the door was not what Elizabeth had expected. He was taller than Felix and had broad shoulders and thick, muscular limbs. His black overcoat looked almost grey next to his shining ebony hair that came down to just below his ears and brushed the back of his neck. Deep-set brown eyes dominated his face along with an almost emotionless expression. The woman who followed him was nothing like her husband. She was incredibly slender with long, spidery arms, and her pale blonde hair looked nearly white. Had it not been curled up in a bun, it would have hung in perfectly straight sheets to the small of her back. Her eyes were a pale blue that seemed almost colorless, in the right light**.**

Felix stepped forward, a wide grin on his face. "Sébastien, so good to see you again!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand.

Breaking into a grin, Sébastien shook it, saying in a deep voice, "It is good to see you too, brother." His accent was thick, but easy enough to understand. "You know my wife, Véronique," he said, gesturing to the woman. She stepped forward with a slight curtsey, holding out her hand to Felix who took it and kissed it.

Sébastien then turned his attention to the rest of the room. "My, Felix, you have quite a full house," he observed, looking around at the seven other Shadowhunters. "Are you going to introduce us?" he asked with an amused half smile.

"Of course, of course!" Felix then turned to Charles, Catherine, and William, introducing them as the next to take over the Institute. He moved on to Haden, identifying him as Charles' nephew, then to Elizabeth and James, and finally to Wes. He did not mention the fact that Wes was the Consul's son, however, Sébastien seemed to come to that conclusion himself, for a look of recognition and possibly amusement crossed his face.

"I am pleased to meet you all," Sébastien began, stepping forward. "Thank you for allowing my family to journey to London and stay with you here at the Institute. It brings me some peace to know that something is being done to recover my Sorelli." At the mention of his daughter, his face was a mix of emotions: pain, loss, worry, sadness, hope, determination. Even Véronique, who had not said a word and stood emotionless the whole time, seemed to sag a bit. It then made Elizabeth wonder if she was so bony because worry had eaten away at her physically.

"We will do everything we can to find her," Charles promised, coming forward. He then told Sébastien and Véronique about the ball he had planned for the next evening. Sébastien was quite enthusiastic about the plan, and Véronique, though not quite as excited as her husband, expressed that it was a good idea.

Charles seemed to glow at their praise, becoming rather animated and enthusiastic himself. When Felix suggested he and Catherine show the Clair-Étoiles to their room, Charles led them from the room with an extra spring in his step. Felix then dismissed James, Haden, Wes, and Elizabeth who all dispersed without a word to one another.

The rest of the day passed in a blur and soon it was the afternoon of the ball. Catherine, Elizabeth, and Madame Clair-Étoile had retreaded soon after luncheon to prepare for the evening. It was times such as these when Elizabeth greatly envied men. It took maybe an hour for them to prepare when it took women most of the afternoon. Elizabeth hardly had the patience for it.

Her hair had been tied in wet cloth all night and now fell in gold ringlets around her face. Mary's skilled hands quickly piled half of it on top of her head, leaving the rest cascading down her back. She pulled a few curls from the front so they hung down and framed her face. As a final touch, Mary added tiny white flowers in strategic places on top of her head.

Once her hair was finished, Mary helped Elizabeth into her dress. Elizabeth liked this one in particular because it was relatively simple; there was minimal lace and ruffles and ribbons. It was completely white, which was indeed odd considering that white usually signified mourning, however, Elizabeth assumed that at a party, people would not be so focused on the significance of color.

Mary left to assist Catherine, leaving Elizabeth to herself for a few moments. She stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She was amazed at how much older she looked with her hair done up and her dress on. Turning away, she pulled on her gloves then went to go pick out a necklace. As she sifted through the loose chains and stray pendants -she never did pay much attention to jewelry -she paused when she came across a seashell. It was from a necklace her oldest brother Peter had given her on her eighth birthday. It was one of the only things she had from him, so she never threw it out, even when she had stopped wearing it.

She turned it over in her fingers feeling the smooth coolness of the shell. It was white with veins of pale gold, so she decided to find a chain and wear it. Once around her neck, it rested just below her collar bone. She touched it lightly with a finger and then turned as a knock came at the door. It was Mary telling her the others were ready to meet in the parlour and to come as soon as possible. Elizabeth agreed and then quickly made her way down to the parlour.

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Haden had been sitting in the parlour waiting for close to ten minutes. For a while he had been the only one, but the others slowly began to trickle in. Sébastien and Felix came together, talking quietly, then Charles followed by Wes. Catherine and Véronique entered and then they were only waiting for Elizabeth. Her hurried footsteps were soon heard in the hall, and she pushed through the doors.

"I apologize to have kept you all waiting," she said, sounding a bit flustered. Haden was, for a moment, surprised by her appearance. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it was not this. With her hair curled and styled, Elizabeth looked completely different from the girl who had run with him in the rain or whose temper resulted in unladylike shouting.

Felix acknowledged her and then called the room to attention. "Tonight our primary focus is extracting any information we can about the goings-on of the Downworlders. Do not make it obvious that you are gathering information however if they become suspicious, make it clear that we are not interested in starting an argument between the Downworld and the Nephilim."

All those in the room agreed, and then began to file out in groups to where the carriages waited out in front of the Institute. The Clair-Étoiles and Felix took one of the Institute's. They left earlier than the others so that they might be at the ball to greet guests. About half an hour later, however, the Gaelands left in a second carriage, and Wes, James, and Elizabeth followed in the third. William had been left behind with Mary, so there was plenty of room for Charles, Catherine and Haden in their carriage. Haden couldn't help wondering if Elizabeth and Wes would manage the ride to the ball without attempting to harm one another.

The ball was being held in the great ballroom near St. Paul's Cathedral. It was a massive building with greek style architecture; marble columns supporting a triangle of elaborate carvings. If one looked closely, the carvings depicted the scene of the angel Raziel rising out of the Lake. The carriages stopped in front of the building, and Haden followed his aunt and uncle out. Light poured through the open doorway, illuminating their path. His hands in his pockets, Haden stared at the building while he waited for the others, a shadow against the brilliance that waited inside.


End file.
